


In the Moonlight

by just_ann_now



Category: Lord of the Rings - Fandom, Swordspoint - Fandom
Genre: Bittersweet Ending, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-02
Updated: 2013-08-02
Packaged: 2017-12-22 05:59:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,307
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/909745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/just_ann_now/pseuds/just_ann_now
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Boromir's fireside tale is surprising in so many ways.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue: Inspired

**Author's Note:**

  * For [FoxRafer](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FoxRafer/gifts), [Ribby](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ribby/gifts).



> A rather improbable LOTR/Swordspoint fusion. Originally posted as two pieces, "Inspired By" and "Under the Moonlight" in January and March of 2010. A birthday gift for Ribby and Foxrafer.

Each evening Boromir practiced alone, his blade spiraling and darting, swift and sure as a dream, a dance of worship to the spirits of air and sky. It was unlike anything Aragorn had ever seen, even trained as he had been by the finest warriors of the Eldar. 

"Where-" he finally blurted, but stopped, ashamed to intrude. Boromir's face lit up. "A lover taught me, long ago; try as I might, I'll never match his skill." And he said no more. But Aragorn long remembered the warmth of his smile, a memory of joy unshadowed by any sorrow or regret.


	2. Under the Moonlight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Photograph by curious_wombat, and posted at the original site with her permission.

"It's Boromir’s turn to tell the story tonight," Merry announced happily as the Fellowship settled around the campfire. "His stories are always so..."

“I hope it's not going to be another ghost story,” Frodo murmured. “Because the last one…” Sam bobbed his head in vigorous agreement. 

"No, not a ghost story this time,” Boromir replied, glancing towards Aragorn. “It’s a story someone asked me to tell, though perhaps not in so many words.” The ranger nodded slightly, taking a long draw on his pipe.

Boromir waited a moment for his listeners to settle themselves, then began. “I had walked by that gate a hundred, a thousand times in my life, without paying it much notice, but that night, that first night, it was ajar; I pushed it open and walked up the steps into a small garden.”

“What kind of garden?” Sam interrupted.

“What kind?” Boromir faltered a moment. “A flower garden, I suppose, flowers and small trees. Grass, not overgrown, but with a bit of a wild look to it."

“Was there moonlight?” Frodo murmured. 

“Moonlight? Yes, there was, and that was what made it special, for there in the moonlight, a man stood, practicing with a sword.”

“What manner of man?" Aragorn asked. 

“Practicing how, exactly?” Legolas queried. 

“And what make of sword?” Gimli demanded.

Boromir took a deep breath. “I can’t think with all of you chattering like magpies! Shall I tell the story or not?” His audience rustled a moment, guiltily, and then Boromir continued. 

“There was a garden hidden behind an iron gate. In this garden, a man stood in the moonlight, practicing with a sword. It was not like any swordplay I’d ever seen before – no broad strokes designed to cleave orcs in two; his movements were sweeping, gliding, like birds in flight, or the shimmering of moonlight on water. I held my breath, though whether it was to avoid disturbing him, or for fear of startling him, I do not know. In those first moments, I was not sure if he was real, or if I had stepped into a waking dream.

“After a time, when it seemed as though he had finished whatever pattern or sequence he followed from within his own imagination, he stopped, nodded toward me, and soundlessly slipped away through that gate.” Boromir paused. 

“Is that _it?_ ” Pippin whispered loudly to Merry. “That’s the whole story? It most certainly was not scary _at all_.”

“Hush, Pip,” Frodo replied. “ I don’t think he’s finished,” for Boromir was once again glaring in their direction.

“Over the next few weeks, something drew me back each evening. Some nights the gate was closed and locked; some nights it was ajar but the garden empty, and some nights, moonlit nights, he was there.

“At first, I merely watched him, for though he was graceful as a dancer, I could sense coiled power and superb control, like those great cats of Rhûn. I do not doubt that he could kill with brutal efficiency if the need arose. 

"After studying him for a time I started to understand his movements, parries and strikes against his imaginary opponent, and one night, I took out my own blade, and began to imitate him, as though watching through a mirror, always a fraction of a second behind. He seemed at first to ignore me, but then I could sense his interest: his movements became slightly slower, more complex, as if he were leading me in a silent pavane." 

"What's a - " Sam whispered, not quite in Frodo's ear. 

"It's a most elegant courtly dance, and I for one would like to hear the story of Boromir and his mysterious swordsman dancing one in the moonlight WITHOUT any further interruptions!" Gandalf thundered. They all gaped at him in surprise. After a moment, the wizard nodded towards him, and Boromir resumed his tale. 

"When we were finished, he surprised me by flopping down on the grass, taking a long pull from his wineskin, and then offering it to me. The wine was not familiar to me, something cool and golden, and I smiled my thanks. We sat a few moments, enjoying the quiet of the evening. Then I turned to him, just as he reached for me."

"And then?" Legolas asked, his breathing unexpectedly laboured. 

"And then? Well, his lips were soft, and his hands were skillful..." Boromir paused.

Pippin made some kind of a strangled noise; it was hard to decipher because Merry had his hand over Pippin's mouth while Frodo and Sam wrestled him. "Ow! He bit me!" Merry cried. Pippin sat up.

"Tell me, Boromir, Did you two ever talk about anything?"

"What?"

"Conversation. Hello, my name is Boromir, Son of Denethor, Captain of the White Tower, what's yours?"

"I, I don't -" 

"You lay with a man _without even knowing his name?_ "

"I suppose I never did. Words were not necessary between us." Boromir replied loftily.

Pippin snorted; Merry elbowed his cousin in the side. "Hush, Pip," he said in a low voice."This is another country; customs are different here."

Boromir went on. 

"The affair, if you could call it that, continued for several months, until, one evening, he held me in his arms just a heartbeat longer than usual. 

" 'I'm leaving the city tomorrow,' he said. 'My mother is ill, and I must go to her.'

"I admit, I was startled. I knew he was as real as I, a man of flesh and bone; I had tasted his sweat-slick skin, and felt his breath warm on my belly. But I had never thought of him as having a mother, a history, a life outside the garden where we danced with our shimmering swords and lay entwined afterwards. I felt a stab of envy towards that other life that was taking him away from me, and then guilt. But what could I say but 'Goodbye; I wish you a safe journey, and good health to your lady mother.' 

"He smiled, a rare bright smile. 'She would laugh to be called so, but I thank you, on her behalf.' And then he took my hand, brushed my fingertips with his lips, and was gone."

There was a long silence. 

"We're off to bed, then," said Frodo, nudging Merry with his foot. Merry grabbed Pippin by the arm as Sam jumped up and began gathering their cups and cloaks.

"That's it? That's the end?" Pippin was sputtering as they half-dragged him off. One of the halflings muttered something Boromir couldn't hear, though Pippin's retort - " Well, I never imagined him to be such a _trollop -_ " was quite audible. 

Boromir froze, his eyes wide with shock. Then, suddenly, he clapped his hand over his mouth, stifling his own laughter. He looked across the fire to where Aragorn and Gimli sat, shoulders shaking silently. 

"I suppose it did come across that way, didn't it?" Boromir said, wiping his eyes. 

"It did, a bit," Aragorn agreed. 

"Still, you're only human," Legolas said. 

"And the swordsman does sound as though he was quite intriguing," Gimli added.

"Well, it isn't as if we haven't all done the same thing," Gandalf said, standing and shaking out his robes. Then he strode off to take his watch as the others stared after him, speechless.


End file.
